


moon dances over your good side

by stormss



Series: boys made of space [4]
Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, M/M, New Year's Eve, aka my brand, lol what tags do i use???, this is just soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:45:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormss/pseuds/stormss
Summary: A scene of domesticity.





	moon dances over your good side

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello!!
> 
> this is literally something i wrote in, eh, maybe half an hour when the idea came to me. i'm still sad about this glorious show being cancelled so this is kind of my way to let it out?? also, this is the result of a relentless bout of writer's block, so. 
> 
> the title is from _two ghosts_ by harry styles.

It's 1984. 

There's a storm brewing outside, snowflakes sticking together and piling up along the curb, the sky a soul-shattering blue-grey that has yet to be mixed into a useable shade of paint in their collection. The kitchen is quiet in the dark but it's alive, streamers from the night's celebrations still half-stuck to the walls, empty cups and liquor bottles piled into the sink for later disposal.

It's 1984, and Dizzee can't sleep.

The side of his face is still tacky with a mix of sweat and body glitter; there's a perfect lipstick smudge on his temple left by Sylvie when the clock ticked down to zero. He remembers the chant, the bodies pressed together in their tiny apartment, their voices and hands coming together like art as it progressed, the _three—, two—, one—!_ shattering his eardrums as midnight hit. Thor was there, his sunbeam boy, but he guesses they're men now because they live on their own and pay rent and both passed twenty a couple years ago. Whatever. Thor, his sunbeam _man_ , was right by his side, and he'd tangled a hand in golden hair and pulled him in for a kiss as the first firework exploded in the sky. 

They've been together for six years, and Dizzee still can't get over the eruption in his chest when Thor smiles into a kiss, his arms bringing him closer. 

Dizzee's mindful of the scattered garbage on the tiled floor, that same floor that's had paint spilled on it more times than could probably be counted. The gentle hum of the fridge fills his ears and he smooths down his sleep-mussed curls as he opens the door. It's mostly been emptied out since they had close to twenty people over for New Year's, but he feels warmth spread within him when he sees the large container of leftovers his mom sent their way through the holidays. Her cooking would taste good in a restless night, but he moves past the tupperware to the milk.

He drinks from the carton, he knows he and Thor are both guilty of doing it, and he leans against the counter and stares out of the window. One of Thor's pieces hangs on the wall next to it, a big portrait of Dizzee in the moonlight, titled  _A Poet in Blue, 20._ They'd been playing around one night a couple of months ago, setting up their studio so the natural light would filter in. They'd gotten pretty high, and Dizzee barely remembers sitting half-naked on a stool for Thor's portrait, but the proof is in the gentle brushstrokes and the sixteen-by-twenty canvas.

"Dizz," a voice whispers, and he turns to see quite a sight. 

Dizzee's woken up next to Thor countless times, but there's something magical in the string of tinsel stuck in his tangled hair, the faint dusting of stubble, the shadows of the moon against the toned lines of his chest and abdomen.  

"Baby, y'alright?" Thor asks, voice still thick with tiredness. Dizzee sets the carton on the countertop and nods, beckoning him forward with a gentle jerk of his chin. Thor's like a big puppy when he's half-asleep, Dizzee's come to realize, and like a big puppy he just likes to cuddle. He's content to just stand together and do that — or maybe they could move over to their couch — but Thor presses his cold nose to Dizzee's neck and sighs. 

"I'm happy he came tonight." Thor mumbles, reaching behind the two of them to blindly grab at the milk. "Seemed like he enjoyed it." 

_He_ is referring to Shao, and Dizzee couldn't agree more. When Dizzee had first extended the invite to their little party to Shaolin, he'd looked at Dizzee like he had seven heads. Maybe they weren't making music anymore, and maybe Shaolin was in a constant state of being miserable since Zeke pretty much permanently moved out of the Bronx, but that was still his brother and Dizzee would not allow him to just sit in the temple through the whole holiday season. 

He'd actually shown up, though, which was kind of a big deal. He'd lingered around Thor's record collection, sure, but he came and that was _something_. 

"Mmm," Dizzee agrees, stealing the milk back from his boyfriend. He puts the carton on the counter once more, and drops a kiss onto Thor's shoulder. He notices that Thor's eyes are struggling to stay open, and though they glint like stars in the light Dizzee doesn't want him to be fighting to stay awake. He may be a soul that thrives at night, but his boyfriend enjoys a solid nine-hours of sleep. "C'mon, back to bed."

"You gotta come with me." Thor murmurs, and Dizzee plucks the tinsel from his hair, swoops in for a kiss and then nods. Their room is in a constant state of a mess that Dizzee likes to call organized — all of their supplies remain in the corners, ranging from cans of Krylon to acrylics and oil paints, some records sit in a crate next to a stack of clothes. It's very much like Thor's place by the pier before they moved out, but more adult, and Dizzee likes it. 

Thor pretty much flops back onto the mattress, in the same spot he must have rolled out of not ten minutes before. Dizzee slips in bed next to him, finding comfort in the normality of it all. Thor's pretty much out already, eyes closed and pressed against Dizzee's side, but he still manages to mumble a soft _love you_ against Dizzee's shoulder before falling asleep completely. 

"I love you too, my beloved." Dizzee whispers, letting his eyes roam over the room, the snow plastered against the glass of their window creating weird shadows on the walls. In the morning, the golden hour will shine them in shades of orange and pink, making them a part of the universe that they love to speak wonders about. The outside world may be changing and crumbling, but he has this, and that's all he could ask for. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! 
> 
> drop a comment or come yell at me about whatever on [ tumblr dot com!! ](http://bi-kipling.tumblr.com/)


End file.
